Chapter 1
He appreciated that Natasha gave him a heads-up about everything regarding SHIELD and the utter shit-show that was to follow. It let him pull out of the mission he was on and take-out his handler, who had been a hundred and seventy percent HYDRA considering how loudly he’d yelled their stupid catchphrase at him before Clint tased him into unconsciousness.
But he was getting ahead of himself, or behind himself. Whatever. That wasn’t his point.
He appreciated the heads-up, but he definitely was not appreciating the favor she asked. Not that he would ever say no to Natasha asking for a favor. But he still regretted agreeing to it. Even if at the time it had seemed like a longshot, go trailing after the Winter Soldier - aka Bucky Barnes - while Natasha, a guy named Sam, and Steve handled Steve’s recovery and the downfall of SHIELD. Most likely he wouldn’t find anything. The Winter Soldier had been a ghost story for decades, a master assassin, a notorious agent who had escaped the clutches of international agencies for years -
A guy standing four yards away from him trying to subtly steal a baseball cap.
Clint ended up standing there and watching with morbid curiosity as the Winter Soldier stared down a red cap and then the shopkeeper and then back at the cap. It went on like that for five minutes. He leaned against a wall and just watched. Eventually the Winter Soldier - or Barnes or James he guessed - gave up and slunk away for whatever reason.
Before his brain caught up with his body he was already sprinting across the street to the little store front. He snatched the cap from the rack it was on and waved it at the cashier. The amount he was looking over his shoulder probably freaked the guy out, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that. Instead he threw a sweaty, crumpled up twenty dollar bill at the cashier before turning to try and catch up with Barnes.
Despite the couple of minutes between him watching Barnes leave and now, he wasn’t that hard to spot. The hood up in the middle of the day was suspicious, not to mention there was a way a person carried themselves when they were hyper aware of everything around them - and oh was Barnes projecting it. That made him easy to follow, but dangerous to approach. Clint wasn’t going to attempt it when in a crowd of people not knowing how Barnes would react. He assumed it wouldn’t be well. So he would avoid civilian involvement by following after him and hoping that he managed to turn down a sideroad or alleway that was a bit less precarious.
After ten minutes of following he got his wish. Sort of.
As soon as he stepped into the alleway after Barnes, the man rounded on him. The metal hand tangled in his shirt was more than enough to shove him back against the brick wall. Clint winced as his bow case jostled roughly against the bricks and made a horrible scraping sound. “Aw no, I’m not here to fight.” Clint raised both hands up in the air, hoping that the universal sign for ‘don’t punch me in the mouth’ would be understood.
The cold look he got in response was better than a punch in the face, Clint decided.
It was about then he realized he had the hat in his hand, and his expression immediately brightened. “The hat, I saw you looking at the hat so I bought it for you.” Clint looked between the hat and Barnes’s steadily more confused expression. Definitely still better than being punched. “You didn’t want to steal it, or didn’t think now was a good time - so I bought it instead.” He waved the hat around by its bill, the motion just enough to get those cold gray-blue eyes off of him and on the hat instead. It helped him feel less unnerved.
“Take it, seriously, it's for you.” He flipped the hat up into the air. “Red isn’t my color.”
Unsurprisingly, Barnes caught the hat with his flesh hand. He didn’t put it on right away but he also didn’t crush it in his hand or stab Clint with the secret knife he was sure was on him somewhere.
“Why?” Barnes asked, his voice sounding rough from disuse. He held the hat up unnecessarily to emphasise his question.
It took him a few moments longer than it should to respond to Barnes’s question. The sound of the other man’s voice was surprising. Clint lowered his hands and shuffled his feet so he was able to get a better stance just in case Barnes decided to shove him around a little more. Not that he thought for a moment he could beat him in a contest of strength, but he didn’t want to make a complete fool out of himself.
“You wanted it, to hide i’m guessing,” Clint started and when he got nothing in return he continued. “So I bought it for you, to help you hide.”
The look that Barnes gave him made it clear he thought Clint was an idiot. He knew that expression well, most people wore it around him within the first fifteen minutes of meeting him. Clint adjusted his shoulders and then stopped when he saw the way that made Barnes’s arm tense and his hand tighten in his shirt. He raised his hands again and felt like he was going to be doing a lot of that. He had a few things he could say but he kept his mouth firmly shut to let Barnes process, yeah, that’s what he was doing. It wasn’t to make sure he didn’t say something that got him punched with a scary-but-cool metal hand.
“You’re an Avenger,” Barnes said, his eyebrows knitting together in either concentration or anger. “Hawkeye.”
At that name Clint let out a long sigh. He nodded all the same. “I guess so, I haven’t done a lot of Avenging lately but I think my membership hasn’t been revoked yet.” If it had he was pretty sure Natasha wouldn’t have called him, Clint thought with only a small tinge of bitterness. He watched a fascinating tangle of emotions slide over Barnes’s face over the revelation. The hand in his shirt didn’t tighten, Clint was waiting for it to happen.
Instead the hand loosened and Clint no longer had his case digging into his back quite so much. He counted that as surviving his first encounter with the Winter Soldier, even if they were still standing face to face and he could be on the wrong end of an attack at any moment.
“Captain America sent you,” the look that Barnes sent him was questioning, or maybe accusatory.
Clint shook his head. “The Black Widow did,” he smiled almost wryly, but the lack of reaction from Barnes made that expression fade fast. “She said you had gone off the grid and someone should watch your back. So she asked me.”
He didn’t quite understand why yet. Natasha hadn’t been hurt, at least not badly. He figured she wanted to help SHIELD regroup what good was left in it, or look after Steve. But he did understand not wanting to ask Stark and Banner, neither exactly had the skills. Not that Clint thought he had the skills to deal with this, especially not when he looked into the shuttered expression that was a hundred percent Winter Soldier on Barnes’s face. Considering he was one of the few from SHIELD who were definitely not HYDRA though, he understood why he was on the short list.
“Listen, i’m sure you don’t want someone tagging after you but if you don't want HYDRA catching up with you then having some help isn’t going to hurt.” Barnes had broken free of them somehow, something having to do with Steve - he only knew that much. But he didn’t think that Barnes had connections, or safe houses, or cash. All of those were really important things if you wanted to stay on the run and out of sight. So was good intel. Clint at least had some sort of network.
“Plus, even if you say no i’m gonna have to follow you in order to not feel like a piece of shit for just giving up.”
Barnes stared at him with a look of pure exasperation. “I don’t want help.”
Clint grinned, that was exactly the response that he was expecting. “Figured as much, but you still need it.” He was taking all sort of liberties here, which was dangerous, but no one ever accused him of being tactful or prone to feats of great self-preservation.
He knew that this could go a number of ways. Worst case, Barnes kills him. But he thinks if that was the option he was going with that he would already be dead. Best case, they walk to the nearest airport and fly to where Steve and Natasha are holed up. Clint isn’t optimistic enough to think that was what was going to happen. Not with the guarded, squirrely expression on Barnes’s face. There was something eerily familiar about that look that he couldn’t quite place. Or maybe he was just looking for something to understand in Barnes so that the man didn’t seem like such a mystery.
“I’m not...ready to see him again,” Barnes explained slowly, as if picking his words carefully.
Ah, well, that made sense.
“Okay,” he wasn’t really sure what to say to that. “Then what’s the plan?”
The look Barnes gave him was unreadable. Clint just kept looking at him. Considering there was still a hand in his shirt that didn’t let him move, he didn’t have many options. He had a feeling that trying to push Barnes to do something he didn’t want to wouldn’t go over well.So he’d wait until Barnes figured out what he wanted to say and then wing it from there.
“I need to remember who I was, who I am,” Barnes said, diverting his gaze so he was no longer looking at Clint. “There’s too much there now that doesn’t make sense.”
Clint felt all the air go out of his lungs.
So that’s why Nat wanted him to help.
Licking his lips, Clint nodded. “I get that.” He really did. God knows he could have used some of that time and space to sort himself out before, but he had a bunch of aliens to shoot. The thoughts that rattled around in his head for weeks after the Battle of New York had to be nothing in comparison to what was going on in Barnes’s head right now. He had decades of memories as the Winter Soldier - not to mention whatever he forgot from being Bucky Barnes. This wasn’t going to be a quick process Clint guessed.
“I’ll help you do that then.” The confusion crept back into Bucky’s expression. “Look, i’m not exactly an expert on recovering lost memories but I do have the connections and safehouses that make figuring it out a lot easier. To give you the space you need or want to do that.”
He could already think of a few places, his apartment in Bed-Stu, the Condo down in Florida he had inherited when Phil died, the shitty flat in Budapest that he kept more out of nostalgia than ever wanting to go back, and the farm he’d gotten decades ago but never visited. None of them on SHIELD’s radar. Two of them only Nat knew about, but he didn’t think she would be coming after him anytime soon. Not if he didn’t give her a reason to.
Clint knew he was getting ahead of himself, Barnes hadn’t even agreed yet. He was still giving him that confused yet unreadable expression.
“Why?” Barnes questioned, his voice low and hesitant.
“Nat asked me to help—”
“That’s not the only reason,” Barnes interrupted, eyebrows knit together again.
He wilted slightly, Barnes was clearly perceptive even if he had a few screws loose. “Because, ugh, maybe I think I can help you. I sure as hell won’t be able to help with the whole SHIELD falling apart thing, and it isn’t like I have anything better to do.”
Clint felt stupid saying that. He was a damn good agent, a great assassin, and the best marksman in the world. He should totally have a bunch of backup plans for if his current gig ran out. But with the Avengers only intermittently needed and SHIELD having gone down the drain he didn’t. If Natasha hadn’t called him he would have either gone to wherever she was to wait for instructions or gone to hang out in his apartment trying to get the cable to consistently work. The prospects were kind of depressing if he let himself think about them too much.
The hand holding his shirt dropped away and Clint found himself finally able to step away from the wall. He reached up and adjusted the strap of his bow case, slowly. He didn’t want to spook Barnes anymore than he already had.
“Fine, but only until I don’t want your help anymore,” Barnes replied.
Oh shit, he actually agreed.
It was clear that Barnes wasn’t entirely convinced about accepting help, but something Clint had said got through to him. Instead of turning and walking away like he looked as though he wanted to do, Barnes just looked down at the hat in his hand and seemed to contemplate something.
“Red is too eyecatching, I was looking at the black one.”
That...was not at all what Clint was expecting. It left him blinking owlishly down at the hat in Barnes’s hand and then back up at the man himself. “So, uh, let’s go buy the black one?”
It was utterly surreal to walk out of the alleway with Barnes skulking two steps behind him. He marched straight back to the same shop as before and picked up the black ball cap, smiling sheepishly at the cashier who gave him a very confused expression. He completed this transaction a bit less hastily, handing over the money and saying thank you when he got the hand and change in return.
He turned to Barnes and held out the black cap, which he realized was a much more subtle color in comparison to the bright red one the man was holding. They swapped and without much thought Clint pulled the red cap on his own head, not really having anywhere else to put it. The last thing he wanted to do was give it back to the cashier or do anything else to alarm the man.
As soon as Barnes had his own hat situated Clint turned and stared to walk away from the shop, surprised when Barnes followed him. Too bad he had no idea where they were going.
“So, uh, why Baltimore?” He turned to look half over his shoulder at Barnes, the man’s face completely hidden with the way it was ducked and the brim of the cap. Smart.
“Big city, close to D.C., and lots of transportation between the two.”
“Oh, okay.” Clint should have realized that. “Do you have a place you’re staying here?”
It had been over a week since the Triskelion fell. But there was no telling how soon Barnes had moved from D.C. to Baltimore. Considering he was on the run from basically every organization on the planet, he had to be extra careful. The metal arm and stupidly handsome face were going to get him a lot of attention. Not to mention the surly attitude. It made him wonder when Barnes had stolen these new clothes, he certainly couldn’t have traveled in whatever his tactical gear was.
“Yes.”
Huh, okay. That was another surprise.
“Is it like a paid for place or did you break in?”
Barnes gave him a cold glare, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Abandoned,” he snapped.
“Okay, okay sorry. How about we go get your stuff and then rent a hotel room or something and figure out a real plan?” When he didn’t get an answer he continued. “You can pick which hotel if it makes you feel better.”
That got a curt nod, and Barnes soon over took him to lead the way. They quickly left the populated part of downtown and eventually made their way into a much more industrial area. Clint was on edge, realizing this was the exact kind of place you take a guy to knock him out and leave him while you run away. Except they walked further and further away from the center of the city and Barnes made no move to lash out at him. Clint started to relax, or rather, his attention was focused less on Barnes and more on their surroundings. He wasn’t exactly familiar with Baltimore or where it started to get sketchy. Getting into a fisfight alongside a guy who spent the last seventy odd years as a brainwashed assassin did not seem like a good idea. Sure, they’d win. But he had no guarantee that Barnes would know where or how to stop once he got going.
The building Barnes led them to didn’t look abandoned from the outside, which was probably part of the appeal. Barnes jumped up and grabbed onto a ladder for a fire escape, courteous enough to leave it hanging down as he climbed up. Clint dragged himself up after, muttering mostly to himself about how a front door also worked. Barnes either didn’t hear, or more likely didn’t care to deal with his complaints.
Once inside it was clear the place was abandoned. The room Barnes had staked out must have been an office of some sort, enclosed and with only one window and a lockable door. The best position he could probably have. He had the advantage of height and cover. In the room was a sleeping bag and a backpack. Other than that the rest of the room was covered in dust and looked as though Barnes hadn’t even bothered to touch it.
He lingered by the door as Barnes heaved the backpack onto his shoulders and then tucked the sleeping bag under his arm.
“That’s all you have?” Clint blurted out despite knowing Barnes had just escaped from HYDRA not that long ago. It was just a sad to see how little Barnes had. He immediately felt like he should go buy the man ten more ballcaps. Or at least a pillow. Instead of a verbal answer Barnes just gave him a curt nod and then moved past him to leave the room, his presence alone making Clint feel the urge to take a step back. He manfully resists but did hesitate a few seconds before turning and following Barnes out of the room.
Climbing down the ladder is easier than climbing up, and he dropped to the ground next to Barnes with a dull thumping sound. “So, where to now?”
“Somewhere safe.” Barnes said as he adjusted the straps of his bag more carefully onto his shoulders.
“Great, we can just head back towards downtown and pick up my car and then we can figure out where ‘somewhere safe’ is.” Clint started to walk out of the alley, but is stopped by the annoyed sound that Barnes made.
“You have a car?” He asked, clearly dumbfounded.
“Yeah?”
“A car that we could have driven here instead of walking?” Barnes asked slowly, as if Clint might not be able to understand.
Oh, yeah, apparently he did.
“Well, yeah.” Clint scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact when Barnes walked up next to him.
He swore he could hear Barnes mutter the word “Unbelievable” under his breath as he started the trek back to the center of the city. Clint decided to keep his mouth shut so he didn’t say anything else that made him look more like an incompetent idiot in Barnes’ eyes.